ſoon as the poſtilion on the eaſt wind caught a glance of him, he jumped for joy that his prey was now in his hands, and prepared to ſtrike a maſterly blow. The panting Stephen had nearly climbed the hill; the laſt aſcent only remained, and then he had down hill all the way home; he therefore muſtered up his ſtrength to make the laſt effort; but the hill was ſteep, and the burden heavy. Accordingly he was forced to reſt oftener than once before he gained the top, propping the crate each time upon his knotty crab-ſtick, in order to eaſe its oppreſſive weight, and wiping away the big drops of ſweat that broke out from his forehead. By an exertion of his laſt remaining vigour he reached the ſummit, and now a ſmooth even path led to the deſcent. In the middle of the way there lay a fir-tree that had been lately ſawed, cloſe by the path, part of the bole ſtood upright as an arrow, and level at the top as a table. Round it there grew a luxuriant bed of dark-green graſs. The
reſting-
